


It Has Its Ups and Downs

by airgeer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant to Episode 7, Gen, M/M, Rostelecom Cup, Then non Canon Compliant unless I'm an amazing guesser, Trapped In Elevator, Yuri and Yuuri trapped in a box, Yurio's tragic grandpa situation, background Victor/Yuuri - Freeform, foreground yuri/sadness, my smol angry son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgeer/pseuds/airgeer
Summary: The short program at the Rostelecom Cup is over, and the last person Yuri wants to see is Yuuri Katsuki, his sworn rival who shouldn't even be worth acknowledging. Even less than that does he want to spend any time with him.But then, elevator maintenance was never very good in older Moscow buildings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The number of plots of I've thought through for this dumb show, you don't even want to know. I've been deaged a decade by adorable figure skaters.
> 
> But if you need someone to blame, it's definitely Narie, who demanded Yurio angst every time I wanted to write some romance. I have delivered! (And she has beta'd, she definitely delivered this fic from evil)

 

*****

 

Yuri rose from his final spin, arms extended above him as the music faded into a moment of silence. Only a moment, though, before the crowd’s astonishment turned into uproarious cheering.

 

 _Perfect_.

 

He pasted a vacant smile across his face, acknowledging the crowd as he turned. Grandpa was somewhere out there, had come to Moscow to see him, and the last thing he wanted was to look ungracious. Lilia had drilled that into him.

 

She was there waiting for him, Yakov beside her. Yuri stepped off the ice, scanning the crowd one last time to try and catch a glimpse of Grandpa. Had he seen? Could he tell that Yuri had skated for him?

 

“The scores please, for Yuri Plisetsky.”

 

He didn’t need to see them to know he’d won the short program. Jean-Jacques didn’t have the technical score to beat him when his presentation score was as good as it would be, Crispino had fallen, and he would not lose to the piggy. He would not. He knew he’d won.

 

“For the short program, 105.17. He is currently in second place.”

 

It was like he’d been punched. The breath raced from his lungs, taking a little shocked sound with it. He’d been perfect. And it still wasn’t good enough?

 

“Yuri.” Yakov was smiling, just a little, and how could he? Was he actually impressed? “Katsuki’s short program has a record-setting technical score. You can easily beat him in the free skate with such an excellent short program score.”

 

“Smile, Yuri.” Lilia breathed into his ear. “You must.”

 

***

 

Grandpa had not come.

 

Yesterday, he’d told Yuri that he wouldn’t miss it for anything. Today, Yakov said, more kindly than his usual tone, “Your mother called me this morning. They did not make it to the airport to come to Moscow. She asked me to apologize on their behalf, and to ask you to call her.”

 

There was pity in the way he was looking down at him, and that was not acceptable. “Like I care,” Yuri spat.

 

He dug his phone out of his jacket pocket on the second try.

 

There were too many people around to talk on the phone. The room was full of excited skaters and coaches, grouping and regrouping and the noise was ridiculous. He caught a glimpse of Victor, laughing as he said something, and that sealed it.

 

“I’m going,” he snapped to Yakov, and didn’t wait for a reply.

 

At the elevator, he hesitated for a moment. He could go up to street level. He could go back to the hotel and call his mother, talk to Sasha and Katya, pretend everything was fine. But Grandpa had promised, and it didn’t make any sense.

 

He stepped into the elevator and smashed the button for the first sub-level. No one would be down there except maintenance people, and they would leave him alone.

 

The cables creaked and ground slowly as he descended, the doors opening onto a dim corridor. Yuri slipped out and leaned against a wall, the weight of failure pressing up against him.

 

“Fuck.”

 

The weight of failure turned into the dread of a conversation when his phone rang out. He considered not answering, but his mother’s face showed on the display, and that was not an option.

 

“Allo?”

 

“Yura,” his mother sounded calm, and Yuri tipped his head up against the wall. “We saw your skate; you were wonderful.”

 

“I didn’t win,” he said, a squeak in his voice surprising him. “And Grandpa never came.”

 

“Oh, my Yura, I’m so sorry. He meant to, we all did, but your grandfather is very ill.”

 

He had expected it, he had, because it had to have been bad for Grandpa to break his promise. But still-

 

“Yura, I’m sorry to tell you so suddenly. We didn’t want to distract you.”

 

There was a door just down and across from him, a single person WC. He bolted for it, the small room far less exposed and harsh than the concrete corridor.

 

“Yura?”

 

“How bad?” Yuri leaned against the sink.

 

“The doctor said that he’ll recover, given time and care. He’s resting now, but he wants to speak to you.”

 

His reflection was crying. Yuri swiped at his face with his sleeve roughly.

 

“Ah, Yura.” Grandpa sounded terrible, his voice thin and raspy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you skate in person.”

 

“I didn’t win anyway, Grandpa. I’m sorry, I tried-” It was horrible, horrible. Grandpa was sick, the other Yuuri was better, Victor didn’t want him, and now he couldn’t even speak properly. He slid down the wall to the floor, tucking his face into his elbow and holding the phone like a lifeline.

 

“Yura, you were the best one out there.” Grandpa was firm suddenly, strong, and Yuri was six again. “Your skating showed your true self, and we are very proud. I know that tomorrow you will be even better.”

 

“Grandpa…”

 

The door to the bathroom creaked, and Yuri jerked upright, sniffing loudly as he pulled something resembling a composed expression onto his face. Someone had followed him. Someone was going to die.

 

Someone was Yuuri Katsuki. Who maybe hadn’t actually followed him, because instead of laughing at him, he shrieked like a small child in surprise.

 

In the next instant, Yuri was being gently patted by a babbling Yuuri, who had rushed over to crouch in front of him. “Are you hurt? Do you need help? I can go find your coach-”

 

A dash of hot anger washed through him, taking with it grief and failure. “Get off me!” he hissed, smacking at the other Yuuri’s hands.

 

“Yuri? Who’s there with you?” Grandpa asked.

 

“No one important,” he said cuttingly, scowling at the other Yuuri as he stepped back, hands held out appeasingly in front of him. The next moment, he realized that every insult he delivered in Russian was wasted on someone who didn’t speak it. “Someone wondered if I was alright.”

 

“Your friend Mila?”

 

“No, the skater that Victor is coaching.” Stupid pig-face was looking down at him still. How hard was it to take a clue and leave?

 

“Well, good,” Grandpa said. “I’m glad you have people there who care about you, my Yuratchka. We worry about you being lonely, you know.”

 

“You should worry about you!” Yuri growled. “Listen to the doctors and be careful.”

 

“Of course, of course,” Grandpa said. “I feel much better now that I’ve heard your voice, Yura. I’ll be up and about in no time at all, and I won’t miss you tomorrow for the world. Do you want to say goodnight to the little ones?”

 

“No-”

 

“Yuri! Yuri!” Katya shouted through the phone. “You were so amazing, Yuri!”

 

Yuri sighed, accidentally making eye contact with the other Yuuri, who was still hovering awkwardly.

 

“OKAY GOODNIGHT!” he shouted in English, which only succeeded in setting both his younger siblings to laughing. Yuri ended the call with extreme prejudice and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

 

“So-”

 

“What are you even doing?” Yuri demanded, and was gratified to see the other Yuuri sink back from him even further.

 

“I lost my phone; I thought I might have dropped it down here earlier…but it’s not here.”

 

Yuri left aside the question of what, exactly, he had been doing in a disused WC on a lower level. He didn’t want to know.

 

“Uh, anyway, I’m sorry to intrude. I thought you maybe-”

 

“Well, you thought wrong.” The anger faded as quickly as it had come, and Yuri mostly just felt tired. He put a hand down to stand up, and was confronted by the other Yuuri’s hand in his face, a silent offer of help. Yuri ignored it, standing and straightening his clothing, but caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror. He scowled at the blotchy, red-eyed mess.

 

The other Yuuri looked like he had something to say, but he showed a tiny bit of self-preservation and kept quiet.

 

Yuri felt no such need. “Why are you still here?”

 

“I’m not going to just leave you alone in a cold basement!” he protested. “It’s getting late and it’s creepy down here.” Instead of leaving, he produced a tissue from his pocket and held it out. Yuri stared at it for a long moment, but eventually gave into the inevitable, blowing his nose loudly.

 

Standing there in silence was easier than trying to tell the other Yuuri to leave, but eventually Yuri had to admit to himself that he’d been right about it being a cold basement. Faster than he looked enough like his normal self to face whatever people would still be upstairs, it had seeped down into his bones.

 

He wordlessly made for the door, the other Yuuri giving way to him but following too closely behind for comfort.

 

“This didn’t happen,” he growled as they waited for the elevator to return, the creaking as it rolled down the shaft echoing down the otherwise silent corridor.

 

“Of course not,” the other Yuuri agreed easily.

 

“We’re not friends,” he tried again, trying to break his steady gaze.

 

“No,” he said. “Who could be friends with the person who took Victor away from him?”

 

The elevator doors slid open, and they took up positions opposite each other. The other Yuuri was still watching him with an unfamiliar intensity, like he was trying to see through him and thought he could.

 

“If it wasn’t for Victor, you’d be nothing,” Yuri snapped, crossing his arms. “You don’t deserve him.”

 

“Maybe not,” the other Yuuri said, smiling now. “But he’s where he wants to be.”

 

The lights flickered as the elevator started to rise.

 

“You’re such a-” Yuri cut himself off when the lights flickered again, and, more ominously, the elevator jolted unexpectedly. “What?”

 

When a jump was wrong, you could feel it in the air. Too fast, too slow, the knowledge that there was no safe landing coming had always given Yuri the feeling of flying but falling, freedom and panic combined. He’d trained that feeling away, but it roared back like he’d never lost it when there was a massive bang from somewhere above them and the elevator car squealed against the walls of the shaft as it rocketed upwards.

 

In the bare second before the lights went out and stayed out, the other Yuuri lunged at him, wrapping him up and bearing him down. They hit the floor of the elevator together, the other Yuuri smashing down on Yuri with his full weight but cradling his head with his arms.

 

As quickly as it had started, it was over. The elevator jerked to a dead stop, lifting them both off the floor and slamming them back down onto it. The other Yuuri’s head smacked into the floor beside him as the air was knocked out of Yuri in the second time in as many seconds. He lay there passively for a moment, the elevator silent except for the other Yuuri’s panicked breathing and the wheeze of Yuri trying to drag air back into his lungs.

 

“That was-“ the other Yuuri sighed out, his voice barely creaking above a whisper. “I thought…”

 

Yuri could feel the rapid flutter of the other Yuuri’s pulse in his cheek where it was pressed against his throat, the rise and fall of his chest against his, and fought down the sensation of being trapped. He focused on breathing, trying to convince air to come back to his abused diaphragm.

 

The other Yuuri rolled off of him after a moment longer, but Yuri still felt his body pressed up against him. “Are you hurt, Yuri?”

 

“No,” he mumbled. “Are you?” he asked despite himself.

 

“No,” the other Yuuri said, and that was a surprising relief, considering that an injury to him guaranteed his path to victory. But then, Yuri never had been able to take pleasure in a victory by default.

 

The next thing the other Yuuri said was in Japanese.

 

“I can’t understand,” Yuri said impatiently.

 

“Sorry, sorry, I was just thinking. Maybe there was a power surge and the cable broke? We need to call for help either way. Do you still have your phone?”

 

The other Yuuri hadn’t managed to crush it between them, so he did. The light from the screen dimly illuminated the small compartment, including the other Yuuri.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Yuri said, a twinge in his gut.

 

“Oh?” the other Yuuri said, reaching up to the trickle of blood off his forehead. “It must have split the skin when I hit the floor. Please, don’t worry about it.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Okay,” the other Yuuri said, smiling faintly. “Can you call Victor?”

 

“Why would I call Victor?” Yuri asked drily. “Did he learn to fix elevators while he was in Japan?”

 

“Maybe, but mostly because I know he’s still here. He was going to check all the dressing rooms for my phone.”

 

“Whatever,” Yuri said, pulling up Victor’s contact.

 

“Yura!” Victor sounded inappropriately thrilled to be called, all things considered. “You haven’t called me in forever! Does this mean you aren’t still angry? Oh, I know, you’re calling for advice! Well, I can’t betray my Yuuri for you, but I think that you’ve really captured the feeling of Agape now, great work! If you just fix-”

 

“What’s he saying?” the other Yuuri asked. “He sounds happy?”

 

“VICTOR!” Yuri shouted. “I’m not calling for advice, you idiot!”

 

“Oh? Well then, what can I do for Russia’s future best skater?”

 

“The elevator broke. We’re stuck.”

 

“What?” Finally Victor dropped his playful tone. “Where?”

 

“In the arena, the one that leads to the sub-levels. You need to tell a maintenance person or something.”

 

“Already on it, little Yura. Are you hurt?”

 

“No,” Yuri said brusquely. His screen lit up as he moved, illuminating the other Yuuri’s face. “But your boyfriend hit his head. He’s bleeding a little.”

 

“What? Yuuri?” Victor sounded now like he was coming out of the other side of serious into panic, and Yuri spared a moment for exasperation.

 

“Yes, but he says he’s fine.”

 

“Let me talk to him,” Victor demanded sharply in English.

 

Yuri turned on speaker phone and held the phone out to the other Yuuri. “He wants to talk to you.”

 

“Victor?” the other Yuuri said.

 

“Yuuri! Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine. We’re just stuck, can you get help?”

 

“Are you? Yura said you were bleeding.”

 

“Ah, yes, yes, but it’s not serious. Don’t worry.”

 

“Fine,” Victor said reluctantly. “I hope you aren’t lying, my Yuuri.”

 

“I wouldn’t. We’re both fine, I promise.”

 

“Ah, I’ve found an official. Excuse me?” Victor was using his public voice, polite, but assured that he would get what he wanted. “Yes, there’s an elevator broken down, and two skaters are trapped inside. It is just you two, right?”

 

“Yes, I think a cable broke,” the other Yuuri said. “And the lights have gone out.”

 

“A cable broke and the lights are out?” Victor repeated, shocked and worried now. “Yuuri…”

 

“Yes, so we’d like it if they could get us out very soon, please.”

 

“She’s turned pale and is running, now,” Victor reported. “I feel the same way.”

 

Yuri pushed at the other Yuuri’s arm, leaning in. “Hey, make sure you tell Yakov.”

 

“I will, Yura, don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

 

“I don’t need reassuring like a baby,” Yuri flared. “Especially not from you.”

 

There was silence for a moment, and then Victor said, “Here, Yuuri, this man needs to know exactly what happened.”

 

“We were coming up the elevator, and there was a jerk-”

 

“Before that the lights flickered,” Yuri interrupted.

 

“Right, the lights flickered, and then there was a jerk, and then a loud bang. Then the elevator started to fall up, we fell, the lights went out, and after a couple seconds the elevator stopped abruptly and hasn’t moved since.”

 

They paused for a moment as Victor translated, and then said back, “He says to remain very still. They’re bringing in a crew to hook on more cables to lower the danger.” Then, in Russian, “How much is the danger?” Yuri strained to hear the response, but it didn’t come through. “You’ll be fine. Just hold tight.”

 

“Victor,” Yuri said warningly, “I can hear that you’re scared.”

 

“I am not,” he insisted. “There’s nothing to worry about. Yuuri will take care of you, Yura. Right?”

 

“Of course,” the other Yuuri said quickly, as bad a liar or worse of a liar than Victor.

 

“And I’ll stay on the line, too, so you won’t feel alone.”

 

“You can’t,” the other Yuuri said, tipping the phone to light the screen back up. “Yuri’s phone is nearly out of battery. We should save it, right? Just in case?”

 

“There are a lot of people here now,” Victor said brightly. “I’m sure they’ll have you out very soon now. You both need your rest for the free skate tomorrow, after all.”

 

“Victor.”

 

The other Yuuri’s tone cut through Victor’s bluster, to the point that Yuri thought he could hear him deflating over the phone. “Yes, okay. I’ll call you back when they’re all organized to come get you.”

 

“Okay,” the other Yuuri said softly.

 

Yuri remembered it was his phone and gave up resisting the urge to snatch it back. “I promise not to steal your boyfriend while we’re in here, Vitya, don’t worry. I can’t promise not to murder him when he gets too annoying, but that’s incentive to get us out faster.”

 

He hung up unceremoniously, and the elevator was pitched back into darkness and silence.

 

“What did you say there?” the other Yuuri asked after a moment.

 

“None of your business.” Yuri slowly and carefully lay back against the floor.

 

The other Yuuri, not interested in taking a hint at any point, apparently, tried again. “Your skate tonight was-”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“It was very honest.”

 

“What, just honest?” Yuri took the bait despite himself. “Not amazing or incredible or beautiful, or any of those other words they use to console you when your best still ends with you losing?”

 

The other Yuuri was quiet, leaving Yuri acutely aware of how close they were, lying side by side on the floor. “Yes,” he said, after a break so long Yuri thought he’d finally taken the hint and dropped it. “Just honest. I could see your feelings as you skated, and I was shocked by them.”

 

“Shocked?” Yuri repeated, insulted despite the source.

 

“You’re so harsh, Yuri. You act so tough and rude, like nothing bothers you, but then you skate like that and I find you crying later. You’re hard to understand.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Yuri snapped. “Why don’t you tell me why a mediocre, washed-up idiot like you was able to steal Victor? Do you really think you deserve him? He’ll get bored of you soon.”

 

“You’re jealous.” The other Yuuri’s voice was smug in the darkness.

 

“I’m not! Jealous of someone like you?! That’s ridiculous!”

 

“You are. You’re jealous that he came to me, that he’s happy with me when you think he should be with you. You’re not the only one.”

 

“Your opinion of yourself is too high, pig-face,” Yuri snapped.

 

“Your opinion of me is too low,” the other Yuuri countered calmly. “Why were you crying, Yuri? One of the highest short program scores in history, and you’re fifteen.  Why isn’t that enough?” He waited, but Yuri stayed quiet, not wanting him to continue but not willing to beg him to stop. “Unless, it wasn’t that?” His voice cut like a knife. “Why are you so alone, Yuri?”

 

“Shut up!” Yuri gasped out around the sudden lump in his throat. “Stop!”

 

A warm hand settled gently onto his head. “I’m sorry,” the other Yuuri said. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

 

Yuri grabbed his wrist, ready to throw him off, but something made him stop. “You tried to protect me earlier, when we fell,” he said. “What do you even care? I told you to disappear, but you keep coming back to haunt me.”

 

“Victor likes you,” the other Yuuri said simply. “I think I do too, despite it all. I was scared you would get hurt.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I hope you’ll think about this, Yuri. It took me a long time to realize it, but I had the same problem as you. You think you’re alone, but there are people around you who will help you, if you let them in. You don’t need Victor, or at least he isn’t the only one who matters.”

 

“Easy for you to say. He loves you.”

 

“I know you expected him to stay to skate with you, but people don’t always do the thing you expect. Your expectation doesn’t mean he owed it to you. But that doesn’t mean you did something wrong.”

 

“I know that! Victor is the one who threw everything away, not me.”

 

“He did what was right for him, but he does miss you, and Russia too. I could tell by the way he lit up when we arrived.”

 

The beat of the other Yuuri’s heart throbbed against Yuri’s palm. He hadn’t made a move to remove his wrist from Yuri’s grip, but neither had he drawn closer, apparently content with the stalemate.

 

“My grandpa is dying.” Yuri clapped his free hand against his mouth, shocked. Somewhere in the other Yuuri’s warm but callous understanding, a barrier between his heart and mouth had been knocked down.

 

“Oh?” the other Yuuri said, confused for a moment. “Oh, oh no. I’m very sorry, Yuri.”

 

“He was supposed to be here tonight, but the doctor said he was too ill to travel. I was speaking to him when you barged in.”

 

The other Yuuri did flinch back at that, his fingers twitching in Yuri’s hair.

 

“Well?” Yuri asked mockingly. “If you have an answer to everything, Yuuri Katsuki, what’s your answer to that?”

 

“I don’t.” The other Yuuri sounded as soft as ever, the firmness of belief he’d had when talking about Victor gone as quickly as it had come.

 

“They think I don’t know, but last time I was home I heard my mother speaking to my uncle. They keep telling me he’s sick but getting better.”

 

“They’re trying to protect you?”

 

“I don’t need protecting! I’m not a child, and I haven’t been for a long time! I am not _you_ , crying over every small thing and too mentally weak to skate without someone holding my hand! I can do it on my own!”

 

“Maybe so,” the other Yuuri said, the tendons in his wrist sliding across Yuri’s hand as he smoothed down his hair. “But why would you, when there are people who want to help and who care about you? I tried to do it by myself, and I failed, and in the end I realized that I hadn’t been alone at all. You’re not alone, Yuri, no matter how much you pretend you are.”

 

The phone ringing slashed through the tension, bringing Yuri back down with a start. “What?”

 

“Are you both alive still, Yura?” Victor said lightly. “Put me on speaker, please.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, what’s happening?”

 

“They’ve found where you are in the shaft, and they’re going to stabilize the elevator car first so you two don’t go plunging to your doom, but then they’ll come down and get you out.”

 

“Not funny, Victor,” the other Yuuri said.

 

“No, I didn’t think so either. It was a close thing, Yuuri. It only caught the last emergency stop when the cable broke. They’re all looking very serious.”

 

There was a prolonged metallic screech. Yuri clapped his hands over his ears. “Was that them?” the other Yuuri asked nervously when it finally stopped.

 

“Uh, maybe?” Victor said. “Either way, be still.”

 

A long pause settled in. Yuri could hear voices above them in the shaft now, but they didn’t sound very confident.

 

Victor, on the other hand, came back on with his voice firm and commanding. “Change of plans, my Yuuris,” he said. “Someone is coming down to get you now, so you don’t have to wait. He’ll open the ceiling and give you harnesses, and then you’ll be pulled up. Understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay! Not to worry, you’re nearly out. I’m hanging up now so you can focus on getting out, but I’ll see you in a moment!”

 

“He’s trying too hard to be reassuring,” the other Yuuri observed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was a soft thump-thump on the top of the box, and then the electric whir of a drill. A large panel of the ceiling was lifted away, and the compartment was flooded with light.

 

The other Yuuri stood slowly, taking the harnesses as they were passed in.

 

“We have room for only one rope,” the man on top of the elevator said. “I will be pulled up, and then they will send it back down for you.”

 

“Put the harness on,” Yuri translated for the other Yuuri’s benefit, “And they’ll send the rope back down to pull us up one at a time.”

 

The floodlight cast an eerie shadow across the other Yuuri’s face, highlighting the dried line of blood against his pale skin. “Okay,” he said. “Do you need help with that?”

 

“No,” Yuri said quickly. “Put your own on.”

 

The harness was just a tangle of straps, really, but Yuri had mostly figured it out by the time the rope had come back down. The other Yuuri snagged it as dropped through the hole, snapping the carabiner onto the loop at Yuri’s waist and roughly tightening the straps.

 

“What are you doing?” Yuri demanded. “You go first!”

 

“Not likely,” the other Yuuri said, batting Yuri’s hands away. “Okay!” he shouted up the shaft. “Ready!”

 

The rope pulled taut, and Yuri was nearly swept off his feet by the sudden tug. The other Yuuri caught him, steadying him as the intial jerk turned into a smooth pull.

 

The elevator car shifted as Yuri slipped through the gap, and the other Yuuri audibly gasped below him. When he looked down though, the other Yuuri was smiling up at him. “See you in a moment, Yurio.”

 

The next instant, Yuri swung out into the middle of the shaft, and the other Yuuri was hidden from sight.

 

It was only three metres or so to the set of doors they’d wrenched open, but time seemed to stretch out forever as Yuri dangled, squinting up against the light they’d shone down.

 

As soon as he was near enough, Yuri reached up, and strong hands grabbed his, hauling him the rest of the way like he weighed nothing and setting his feet back on solid ground. The rope was unclipped from his harness and tossed back down into the shaft, and he was handed off.

 

He was handed off to Victor, catching barely a glimpse of silver hair and bright eyes before he was snatched close and pinned against his chest in an iron grip. Yuri froze, his own arms stuck between them, and Victor tucked him in even closer.

 

“I was so worried, Yura,” he mumbled into the top of his head. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

 

“Victor?” he said, unable to think of anything else to say.

 

Victor gave him one last squeeze and released him, holding him at arm’s length and looking him up and down. “You look terrible,” he informed Yuri, smoothing out his hair. “I would say not to let Yakov see you like this, but he’s waiting for you in one of the dressing rooms, so you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

 

“Why aren’t you?” Yuri asked acerbically before he could stop his tongue, but Victor just chuckled.

 

“I have to translate for Yuuri, little Yura.” He looked over the top of his head, frowning. “They’re taking forever.” He patted Yuri on the arm condescendingly. “Well, not to worry.”

 

“I’m not worried!”

 

“Well, you certainly look it!” Victor said, false cheer all over his face. He leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, “What did you two talk about down there, hmm? Was it me?”

 

“Yes,” Yuri said flatly. “I convinced him to dump you and make a move on Georgi. They’re much better suited.”

 

Victor was still smiling down at him, but Yuri could see the worry in his eyes and realized who it was Victor was actually trying to reassure.

 

“He’s fine you know. Your Yuuri. He’ll be fine.”

 

“Of course, Yura. Here’s the medic, she’ll check you over.”

 

He was handed off again, which was quickly becoming tiresome, and escorted to a chair. Yuri looked past the medic to the elevator, watching as they slowly reeled the rope back in.

 

“Did you hurt yourself at all?” the medic asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Okay, watch my finger please…” Yuri endured the concussion test with bad grace, and missed the moment when Yuuri was finally pulled out of the shaft, telegraphed through the group of rescuers with a sigh of relief.

 

Victor was by his side in an instant, but Yuuri scanned the crowd and didn’t relax until he’d spotted Yuri. He gave a smile and a thumbs up as Victor pulled him into a much more gentle hug than he’d given Yuri.

 

“Ugh,” he groaned, watching as Victor slowly stroked a thumb across Yuuri’s forehead above the cut. Yuuri smiled brightly at Victor and leaned close to whisper something, and then they were both smiling over at Yuri.

 

“ _Ugh_ ,” he groaned more firmly.

 

***

 

The next day, Yuri was back at the rink early. Whether Grandpa was there or not, he had a free skate to do, and he would not disappoint. He’d let Yakov deal with telling his mother that he’d nearly died in a faulty elevator, and there would be hell to pay for that, but he needed to focus.

 

He was going to show them all who he was.

 

Victor was there already, Yuuri stretching behind him, but they made a straight line for him when they saw him, past a scowling Yakov.

 

“I’m still going to beat you,” Yuri said. “Nothing’s changed.”

 

The swelling on Yuuri’s forehead had settled into a brilliant black eye, making him look even more ridiculous than usual when he grinned confidently.

 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he said. “I just came to say- good luck.” He held out his hand, the grin turning to a genuine smile.

 

Yuri surprised himself by taking it and smiling a little himself. “Good luck,” he said, and very nearly meant it.

 

***


End file.
